


Shakespeare Would Be Disappointed

by AmateurScribes



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Creepy Temple, Emotional Manipulation, Fire, Gardens & Gardening, Gaslighting, Gen, Isolation, Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Murder, Possessive Behavior, Touch-Starved, which is possibly the most out of place tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 11:18:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19108573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmateurScribes/pseuds/AmateurScribes
Summary: Two bases, alike in stupidity, in fucking Iris, where we lay our scene.Grif finds out that a year is a very long time to continue hating someone.





	Shakespeare Would Be Disappointed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RiaTheDreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaTheDreamer/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Ria!!!! You're such a sweet and amazing person so I hope you're having an amazing day!! So this is my gift to you, and I did my very best so I hope you like it! 
> 
> All mistakes are my own, but I hope you all enjoy!

Grif was sure that they were coming back. 

How could he think otherwise? This wasn't like before, it wasn't like when he had quit. 

He couldn't- he didn't want to believe that they weren't coming back for him.

Grif had faith in the Reds and Blues, which was saying a fucking  _ lot. _

* * *

He's not even fully sure how he got himself into this situation. One second he was tackling Temple to get the remote away from him and the next-

The next moment he was right back on Iris, Temple a ways away from him, the two of them kneeling in the sand on the seashore.

Without hesitation, he had pulled his gun on the other man, before he could do the same to Grif.

But Temple hadn't done anything, hadn't even said a word.

For his own safety, he kept the gun pointed at the other man the whole time. Even as he got up and off of his knees, even as he gave quick glances to see that he was back on Iris, and even as he cautiously approached the other man.

"What the fuck just happened," he growled out as he adjusted his grip on the gun.

Temple tilted his helmet to look up at him, silent for a moment, before he answered, "You know, not even I'm sure."

"How could you not be sure?!" anger bleed into his voice, and he did his best to keep it reigned in. "It was your fucking machine."

"Yes, it  _ was," _ he has a feeling that Temple's glaring at him. "It was my machine, but it was supposed to drill into the Earth to destroy the UNSC. Not bring us to wherever the fuck this is."

"Good job, you  _ totally _ drilled into the Earth, that's where we are right now- the center of the world's shittiest planet. Bravo," his lips curled as he mocked the Blue.

"This wasn't in my  _ plans," _ Temple hissed, launching himself off of the ground briskly causing Grif to step back at the sudden movement, tipping to the side as the sand shifted under his boots. "This must've been that idiot Loco's fault!"

Not even caring about the gun pointed at his head, Temple began to pace, fists clenched and shaking with barely concealed rage. 

"That fucking moron, I asked for one thing- one  _ fucking thing! _ And he can't even give me that," his hands moved wildly and violently with every word. "And now I'm stuck here with you, biding my time till the UNSC or your merry band of idiots comes to arrest me, making all my hard work- everything I've done a  _ mockery!" _

"Hey, asshole? I'm the one with the gun here," his hand wobbled as he stared at the enraged man. "If you don't calm down, I'll get you to shut up  _ permanently." _

Temple stared at him and at the gun he held.

Then confidently, with a jerk of his chin, he smugly called his bluff, "You don't have the guts."

"Neither do you," he thinks back to how just moments ago Temple hadn't put a bullet in his head despite having every chance to.

"Then that just puts us to a standstill," it didn't even phase Temple. "You won't kill me, and I can't kill you. Now what?"

"Now- now I'm going to take you prisoner," he didn't sound nearly as confident in his words as he should have been. "And we're going to wait here until the Reds and Blues come, and then you'll go to prison. Simple."

Temple chuckled, not with confidence but with defeat, "Of course. Congratulations, you've won and I've lost."

"In a matter of hours you're going to be in jail," he adjusted his grip on the gun. 

"Yes, right, a matter of-" Temple cut himself off, his voice trailing into a suspicious silence. Grif wasn't sure why the villain had stopped talking, but it made him tense up, expecting some sort of attack.

But what he got instead was, "Does your HUD clock work by chance?"

So thrown off by the question, all he could manage to mutter was a confused, "Huh?"

"Your clock," Temple was surely rolling his eyes at him. "Mine must be broken due to the portal or something. It's telling me that the date is from five days ago."

What.

It was useless, his eyes darting up to his own HUD what with it being broken since for fucking ever, but he's gotten used to factoring in the glitch when converting the time and date. His clock was three hours ahead, five days behind.

Compared to the actual date that he had tried stopping Temple with the others, well.

For once his clock was entirely correct.

Which meant-

"We're in the past," slipped past his lips as his eyes widened in realization.

"Excuse me," Temple tilted his head towards him, voice flat.

"We're in the  _ past," _ his voice was breathless as his eyes looked around at the beach in complete paranoia.

He's seen enough time travel movies to know how this could go. If they were really in the past, then that could mean a matter of things.

Five days ago Grif was still on Iris, but the hour that Locus swooped in and recruited him into helping to save the day was unknown to him.

Which meant that there could be two of him at this very moment.

If he saw himself from the past, then that could cause a paradox and he could cease to exist or something to that extent. And now, he wasn't really fond of the idea of dying like that, even if he had no idea if it would be painless or not.

That fear kept him rooted to the spot, scared that if he walked up the shore and onto the proper terrain he might make direct eye contact with himself and then something terrible would happen.

But it doesn't keep Temple still.

Instead, he gets closer to Grif, nearly helmet to helmet with him, as he asks, "If I'm understanding you correctly, then what you're saying is that my idiot version of  _ your _ idiot managed to make a  _ time machine." _

Not jerking back from the other man, instead choosing to stare him down, and consciously aware of how the barrel of his pistol was digging into the Blues chest plate, he answers, "That's exactly what I said."

Temple moves away, a hand coming up to his helmet in thought.

"And if what my HUD is telling me, we're  _ five _ days in the past," confidence bleeds into the villain's voice once more. "Then that means-"

"That means you're stuck with me for at least five days while we wait for the timeline to catch up," Grif interrupts. "And you'll find that whatever new revenge plots you're thinking of aren't going to come to fruition because I'd love to be the bearer of bad news, but there's no way off of Iris- trust me, I would know."

"That's what you think," Temple rebutted. "You can't convince me that there isn't  _ some _ way off of this shitty moon."

"I spent a very long time here alone asshole, you think I'd willingly put myself through that if I knew I could hop on a ship and fly to the Vegas Quadrant?" Grif rolled his eyes. "Like a fucking circle, we're back to the start- you're stuck with me until you get arrested."

"Fine," the other man sneered, having confronted his situation  _ finally. _ "Then imprison me."

Fuck running into his past self, he needed to find some way to contain the villain before he strangled him in his sleep or something like that.

"Follow me," he gestured his gun angrily towards the Blue, directing him up the sand dunes and towards the two bases.

He entered Red Base first because if they'd be any chance of some sort of handcuffs it'd be in either Sarge's or Donut's rooms.

He notes the state that it's in- perfectly clean just the way he had left it when Locus had picked him up. But he saw no sign of volleyballs anywhere, so he thinks it's safe to say that the past him was already on his way to saving the day.

A petty part of his brain wants to find one of Donut's ridiculous handcuffs to put the villain in, a little humiliation could go a long way.

But he finds nothing, absolutely  _ nothing. _

There's no sign of restraints in either of the two Red's rooms.

Of all the times to go against his  _ expectations. _

He then redirected the villain towards Blue Base, and his face heats up a little bit at the embarrassment that he's really bad at taking people prisoner.

It almost brings him back to the times of Blood Gulch, when Simmons had turned Blue and tried taking him prisoner. 

So perhaps it was just a Red trait.

But Blue Base ends up being just as bare and void of anything useful.

Frustrated beyond all belief, he pushes Temple back outside of the base, and glances between the two structures.

He didn't want to leave the asshole completely overlooked, because who knew what that asshole could do when left unattended, but it seemed as if he had no other choice.

Sighing, he looked at the man and told him, "Here's the deal, let's just suspend our belief for just the moment to pretend like Blue Base is a jail cell. You're going to stay there while  _ I _ wait for the others from the safety of Red Base."

"That's it," Temple questions, tilting his head.

"Yes," Grif grit out, upset at the turn of events. "I'm going to trust- despite the contrary telling me to do otherwise- that you were telling the truth when you said you  _ can't _ kill me."

Stalking away from the other SIM Trooper, he made his way towards Red Base, knowing that he wouldn't be able to relax until the other man was apprehended properly.

Pausing he took a minute to look up at the sky for a sign of any sort of aircraft.

So now he was waiting and staring at the sky, waiting for any sign that the guys were coming. 

The Reds and Blues would come, they  _ had _ to.

After all, he only had to wait five days. He could do it.

And then they would come.

"If you're not planning on keeping me imprisoned, then just what exactly are you planning on doing to me," Temple called out, a hint of deranged glee hidden behind the words.

"You just stay on your damn side of the moon," Grif glared at the cobalt soldier. "And I'll stay on mine."

"You just can't help it, can you," Temple smirks. "Going back to our roots. Red vs Blue? Except it's just us now."

"Not for long," Grif grits out.

He doesn't know what he'll do if they don't come for him.

* * *

Grif ends up waiting for more than just five days. Which is fine, expected even.

He's got to account for the time it takes for the Reds and Blues to realize that the two of them are gone. And then the time for them to figure out just where they ended up. 

But he would think that Iris would be the top place to check. Maybe after Chorus or Blood Gulch or Desert Gulch or Earth or-

Ok, perhaps there were a few places they might check before ending up at Iris. But they would still end up checking here hopefully.

But the more time he waits, the longer he has to stay in the company of a literal  _ murderer. _

He makes it his goal to ignore Temple as much as he possibly can, and of course, the annoying pest wouldn't take a single goddamn  _ hint. _

"You know, I'm sure, in a different life you and I could have been friends," Temple spoke without waiting for Grif to not greet him like normal. 

"I doubt it," he hissed, already getting up and moving away from the other man, who just simply pivoted to follow him as well.

"We have a lot of the same interests," the Blue continued. "I have it on good word that you enjoy sci-fi movies."

He stopped abruptly, turning his head to glare at the other man, "Oh yeah, and just  _ whose _ good word do you have that on?"

A shit eating grin crawls onto Temple's face as he innocently said, "From Simmons of course."

The mention of the maroon soldier has Grif's breathing hitch, unable to keep his instinctive reactions hidden.

Swallowing tightly, he took the bait and asked, "He spoke of me, did he?"

"Oh definitely," now it was Temple who was stalking away from the conversation, stringing Grif along by words alone. "They  _ all _ said a  _ lot _ about you. Not many of them good..."

Temple made it out like he was ruminating on all the things the others said before he laughed harshly and swung back to look at Grif and inform him, "Oh who am I kidding!  _ None _ of what they said was flattering. Gave me quite the bad impression of you, if I'm being honest."

Extending a finger for each thought, he listed out, "The weakest link, a dirtbag, hardly worth talking about, and oh- my favorite- Simmons implied that you were hardly human!"

He's heard the first few before- how could he not have given the very nature of the Reds and Blues- but it's the last one that causes his heart to stutter and drop.

He doesn't know why he's inclined to believe Temple but- 

He's not surprised.

Tears don't form at the edges of his eyes, and he doesn't look to the side whilst clenching his jaw shut as he trembles, because he's Grif- he's supposed to be emotionally detached, the aloof maverick. Not some- some pushover who doesn't have thick skin.

"But I don't think that way about you," Temple reassures, a placid smile to his face.

"I don't give a shit about how you think about me," he growls out, angry that the other man had managed to get under his skin. 

"No, I think you do," Temple admires their surroundings, despite having spent more than a week on the moon by now. "After all, for the moment at least, I'm your only form of company."

"We'll see about that," he retorted.

"Still have hope that the others are coming back? You know, maybe getting stuck here with you was a good thing," Temple chuckles. "I'm getting off scot-free because the Reds and Blues just found the best way to get rid of you- I'm just tagging along at this point!" 

"That's what you think," he retorted, finally walking away from the conversation.

He didn't have to sit there and listen to Temple second-hand insult him through the guys.

It wasn't anything new, he wouldn't let it get to him.

* * *

At one point, Grif goes searching to see if there were any volleyballs just hanging around.

For no real reason really, he just- he wanted to see if maybe he hadn't used them all, because if he took all of them with him when he left with Locus that was- that was fine! 

He didn't need to rely on the volleyballs anymore, of course, because he wasn't truly alone. He just needed stress relief from having to constantly avoid and ignore and isolate himself from an otherwise devious Blue.

He doesn't find any.

* * *

Grif wakes up to the sound of a ship breaking through the atmosphere of Iris, but groggy in his sleep, the normal elation he would feel at the thought that the Reds and Blues had finally come back for him disappeared when his helmet didn't light up with any unread messages.

Which meant it probably wasn't them. Which left him pondering on who could have passed by Iris and decided it was a good idea to land on it.

It takes a moment for him to remember how Kimball sent a supply cargo to the moon every two months, but when that particular memory lights up in his brain he's springing out of Red Base to storm Blue Base.

He doesn't even knock on the room that Temple claimed as his, he simply kicked the door open, wrenched the man out of the bed, ignoring his startled and angry, "Hey!" and pulled him out of the base, a gun pressed against his side.

"Just what do you think you're  _ doi-mpfh," _ Grif slammed his hand over the Blues mouth, muffling his voice.

"Shut up," he growled out, dragging the Blue into one of the only secluded parts of Iris.

The cave.

Back from- from  _ before _ he'd often use it as a little respite from the typical nonsense that the others had gotten up to during their break. It wasn't nearly on the level of the typical trouble they got into, but sometimes it was just nice to find a little nook to take a nap in without worry that someone would wake him up to go do something not  _ quite _ as relaxing.

It was out of the way, and normally, no one would think twice about it before moving on to some other part of the moon.

But this was the place where Dylan managed to find him and cornered him with her 'logic' and 'facts.'

And during his isolation, he hadn't been as tempted to go back to it, the thought of the confrontation that happened there souring his thoughts.

Now though, now he was forcibly dragging the villain who had tricked the others into the cave, going all the way to the back of it, a hand clamped against his mouth to avoid him calling out to the delivery men.

Grif didn't know how the people that Kimball sent would react to the sight of him and the other soldier. Probably confusion if he had to guess, but Grif couldn't count on the Blue not killing them or doing something equally as horrible.

So in his panic, his first thought was to take the other man and keep him-  _ them- _ hidden while the delivery men did their thing.

The thought that there were finally other people on the moon had him vibrating and shivering where he stood because it'd been two whole months of being isolated with a madman who had been trying to kill everyone he cared about moments before they were stranded. And he had done his damn  _ best _ to not interact with the man, to not catch his fucking crazy, but he knows himself well enough to know that he didn't react best when left alone.

Which led to moments of...  _ weakness- _ times where he would cave and seek the human interaction that he desperately needed.

It's as he pulls Temple closer to his body in order to prevent the man from escaping that he realizes that this is the closest he's gotten to anyone in months.

He can't stop the weaker part of his brain that causes him to lean into the embrace, the part of his brain that  _ relishes _ the warmth coming from the other man, that likens the position that they're into something similar to a hug.

Temple notices.

And judging by the way Grif can feel the corners of his mouth tilt upwards from behind his hand, he just knows that he's pleased by the action.

Temple leans back into him too.

It takes all his will power to not be repulsed by that or by his own fucking actions either because he needs to keep Temple still and not make a ruckus that could attract attention.

"Weird that there's no one here," one of the delivery men says, his voice soft due to distance, but gradually increasing as he moved towards the cave entrance.

"I know right!" his partner says. "No sign of the Captains anywhere. Where could they have gone?"

"Beats me," the other man replies. "So long as they get our notice I suppose it doesn't really matter whether we get to see them or not."

"Still, it would've been cool," his partner tsks. "Definitely would've been worth bragging about- 'hey guys, guess who got to meet the heroes of Chorus, that's right,  _ me' _ ya know?"

"Pft, as if they would ever want to talk to two delivery guys that didn't even fight in the war," his voice drifted off as they moved away.

Grif couldn't hear anymore conversation between the two of them, but just hearing voices other than his own or Temple's had nearly broken his resolve and almost had him running out of the cave to beg them to take him with them back to Chorus.

He wanted it so badly.

But Grif was not selfish.

So he waited to hear their ship leave the atmosphere, and the knowledge that the only form of contact he could've gained slipped past his fingers  _ willingly _ had him pushing Temple away from him and made him stumble with the action.

His body tingled with unreleased adrenaline, his heart pumping so fast that he was sure it would break past his rib cage and chest to lay before him on the ground.

"Now, that sure was something," Temple remarked.

Grif wasn't sure to what he was referring to.

And he didn't care to find out, opting instead to brush past the man to just go and see what they were supplied with now.

He hoped it was something good because when he opened the storage to take stock on how much food was left, he felt a pit grow in his stomach because there was practically nothing left.

At least this supply drop would prove to be fortuitous.

* * *

It wasn't.

Because when he opened the first crate, the only thing he noticed was rows and rows and fucking rows of seed packets.

And when he opened the next crate he was greeted with the same damn thing. And the same with the next and the next.

The only supplies that Kimball had sent over were just seeds.

Brushing a lock of hair behind his ear, he tried his best to not scream in frustration. Instead, he kept his cool and looked around for some sort of fucking explanation.

_ There. _

There was a letter on the table where the crates had been dropped off at, and when he swiped it up, he couldn't stop from wrinkling the damn thing.

Ripping open the envelope, he was greeted with the loopy handwriting of Kimball, not quite script but with the way she wrote her 'y's and 'g's one could be easily fooled.

Scanning the letter he couldn't comprehend what he was reading.

_ Dearest Reds and Blues, _

_ Judging by the time you've spent thus far on Iris, I can assume you've been enjoying your time off thoroughly. For that I am glad! But a reporter by the name of Dylan Andrews should have been over by now to give to you a most disturbing distress video from what appears to be Epsilon. I am unsure of the validity of the video itself but assumed you'd want to know of it nonetheless. I have heard no word from any of you as of yet, although I have seen Ms. Andrews in the news recently, talking of your absence, so I can only assume that you've returned to Iris once more. _

_ In our last correspondence, Donut mentioned that he wanted to set up a garden of sorts, and the nature of the request gave me an idea that I feel will suit you all. Trade, while not quite booming, has been sustaining Chorus now that the UNSC has removed their blockade, but we're still low on supplies for ourselves. However, I have managed to put aside a variety of seeds for you all to start growing your own resources. I would love to continue sending you all the premade supplies that I possibly could, but at the moment I have to think of what's best for my planet. This will be the last supply drop, at the very least, for the next few months. _

_ I have faith that your collective intelligence will be able to figure out how to create a farm, but just in case, I have also provided the essential supplies that you all would need to do so. And for Donut, I have provided a few flower seeds native to Chorus that we had thought extinct due to the war. I would love to see any pictures of what you all produce and will place them next to all my other photos of you all. _

_ With all my love and sincerest regards, _

_ Vanessa Kimball _

_ President of Chorus. _

He drops the letter and stares back at all the crates.

Fucking  _ Donut. _

That pink idiot just had to blab about his fucking hobby of gardening and now he had crates upon crates of utterly useless seeds. He didn't know a single thing about farming- how the fuck was he supposed to figure it out!

A part of him knows that this might have been inevitable anyhow, but in his anger, he's not inclined to acknowledge that part of him.

"Finished reading the letter?" and of course, to improve his mood, Temple just managed to show up in Red Base at the right time. "Her whole attitude is a bit sickening sweet if you ask me."

"Get out," he can't muster the energy to force the man away, so he decides that he's going to stick with just words.

"I'm only here to offer my assistance," Temple keeps that fake fucking smile on his face. "And to let you know that those delivery people dropped off identical crates and an identical letter at Blue Base."

"I don't need your help," he immediately spits out, not wanting to spend any more time with the bastard than he needed to.

"Do you know how to farm," Temple questioned. "Because if you don't, then all those seeds are probably going to go to waste."

No, he didn't know how to farm, but he wasn't about to give Temple a leg up on him any time soon, so he lied as he said, "Of course I can. And as such, I don't need your fucking  _ help. _ You probably water your crops with blood or something."

The Blue laughed and got a cocky look in his eyes as he said, "Well, I'm excited to see what you produce. I'll set up my own little farm too, make this whole Red versus Blue scenario a real competition. Let's see who knows produces the best crops."

The villain didn't even wait for his reply, he just got up and walked out of the base.

He didn't want that asshole to get the last laugh when Grif inevitably failed to produce any sort of crop.

He could do this, he could prove to Temple that he didn't need any of his  _ help. _

If he learned to speak an entire language in a matter of weeks, Grif was sure that he could learn how to farm.

So he went straight towards Donut's room, confident that the pink soldier must have had some sort of Farmer's Almanac or something of use, he had been the one to bring up gardening in the first place after all.

Grif could do this.

* * *

Now, instead of bitching at him in an attempt to persuade him into sympathizing with his cause, now Temple was bitching about how he was planting the seeds in the wrong type of soil or he was taking care of them wrong or wrong this and wrong that-

Just wrong wrong wrong wrong  _ fucking wrong. _

It was almost enough to make him stab his hoe into the dirt and call it a fucking day.

But he was going to end up short of supplies soon, and if didn't have at least something to show for it then he didn't know what he would do. Probably have to go groveling to the only other person on the fucking moon so he didn't have to starve to death.

Rationing their supplies would only get them so far, he was already starting to show signs of gradual weight loss, which he was none too happy about.

Grif didn't want to give that kind of control over to Temple, so he kept trying.

But when he failed at something that should've been simple, had the others been there to help out, it just made him feel like he couldn't do anything right.

Or, well, it  _ would've _ made him feel like that.

Had it not been for the small garden he had started.

He's not even sure why he bothered, he should've spent more time working on the actual crops then a bunch of flowers. But he didn't want the packets laying around collecting dust, and it felt wrong to just let them go to waste when he considered that they were supposedly rare flowers after all. 

And, it turns out, flowers were a lot less high maintenance than food crops. Not that it still wasn't tireless work, but he actually felt like he was getting somewhere.

It was nice, he supposes and watching the flowers sprout up, and wondering what they would look like when they bloomed was a good way to pass the time.

How soon was too soon for naming plants? They weren't even fully grown yet, but all he could think about was how it was seen as a totally ok and normal thing to talk to plants, hell, he had even read somewhere that talking to them would help them grow and it wasn't because he was lonely-

A shadow falling over where he was tending one of the special Chorisian flowers was all he needed to know that the Blue had finally come over to the area he had settled for his garden.

"What do you want," he glared, a little bit pissed that the other man would intrude on his side of the moon. 

Temple didn't see anything, just observed, before settling down in a crouch next to where he knelt. His eyes roamed over the flowers, probably noticing their healthy and thriving conditions, before he finally answered, saying, "You're a shitty farmer."

Hackles raising at the insult, Grif opened his mouth the retort back but was cut off when Temple continued, "But, apparently, you're not without  _ some _ type of green thumb."

"What's it matter to you," he leaned closer to the plants as if to protect them from the evil that radiated from the man.

"Look, I'll make you a deal, you seem happy putting your concentration towards these flowers so I'm willing to take your crops off your hands so that you can't not only kill them and waste all those seeds but so that you can also not starve to death," there was no hint of ulterior motive in the other man's voice, causing Grif to falter.

He didn't  _ want _ to leave himself dependent on the other man.

But Grif would be a proper idiot if he didn't realize that his stubbornness and pride would end up with him dead if he wasn't careful.

"I-" he still hesitated, before sighing. "Yeah, sure, whatever. Go ahead, they're all yours."

"I knew you'd stand to see reason," and there it was, the creepy asshole part of the other man's personality was back.

Temple got up and began to make his way back towards the fields, but he paused and turned back around to look at Grif.

A strange look appeared on his face, and he seemed pained as he said, "I used to have a- a  _ friend _ who wasn't so good at this. Farming that is. And it was funny because we'd always go up to his grandfather's farm on the weekends and over the summer to help out. But eventually, he'd get sent back to the house because if he'd help he'd just end up killing everything."

Looking back down at Grif, he said, "You remind me of him a lot."

And with that, the other was gone.

Uncomfortable with the obviously personal memory Temple had shared with, he tried to focus his attention back towards the plants.

Would he end up telling the other man about one of his childhood memories as well? They'd spent so much time together already, it was probably only fair, right?

Shaking his head, he reassures himself that no, no it wasn't fair. He was supposed to hate Temple, the reason why he was in this mess was because of his illusions of revenge.

He frowns but convinces himself that this is true.

* * *

"You never look happy in any of your group photos," Temple announces to him, apropos of nothing, when Grif had been lounging against the sand, looking out towards the horizon for any sign of the others.

It had been,  _ fuck, _ it's been  _ months. _

Part of him wants to hope that the Reds and Blues were still making an effort to search for them, if not to get Grif back than to at the very least apprehend Temple.

He's not even sure why the UNSC hadn't come a knocking on Iris' door given that Dylan knew of its location. He didn't think that she would keep her mouth shut when it came to that part of her little journey.

Or maybe he just made one too many assumptions- about the UNSC, about Dylan, and about the Reds and Blues.

Grif doesn't want to entertain the thought that maybe- just  _ maybe- _ Temple had a point after all. About everything.

"What are you talking about," he finds that he's more tired than angry at the other man nowadays. It's hard to keep holding onto a grudge when you have to see and interact and rely on the same person day in and day out.

"Your photos," Temple smiles, patronizing in the way he speaks as if Grif is nothing more than a mere child to him. "The ones you took with those ungrateful ingrates you call friends."

Grif had stopped defending the others from insults by month three.

"Are you talking about those pictures we were forced to take after taking down Project Freelancer?" Grif scoffs. "Of course I look unhappy, I'm not one for broadcasting myself to the whole galaxy."

"Hm, not quite," Temple pulls out a folded photo from the pocket of the blue flannel he was wearing- he had taken to stealing from Tucker's closet, his alarmingly thin build making it easy to wear the more built outfits of the aqua colored soldier- and waved it in front of Grif's face. "I'm talking about photos like these."

As soon as the other man stopped moving the picture around, Grif got a good look at the picture in question, and when he did he felt a spark of irritation build up as he snatched it out of the Blue's hands.

It was a photo from a very long time ago, all the way back to Blood Gulch when they weren't really friends and weren't even near as close to being the family that they were- that he thought they were in the present. 

His arms are crossed and it looks like he would rather be anywhere else than that canyon, and Simmons is sneering down at him, looking like he would rather Grif's corpse be presented towards him instead of the alive one that he got.

"Where did you get this," he glared at the other man, trying to sound as infuriated as he might have been at the beginning of this, but failing spectacularly.

"Oh, I just did some looking around," snooping is what he means, "and I realized I've been in every room in Blue Base, but I've hardly seen anything from Red Base, so while you were out I decided to take a quick look around, see the sights," Temple's eyes flicker back to the photo. "I didn't see a lot of good things, to tell the truth."

"What did I tell you?! I said that you should stay on your own damn side of the moon, and yet you went looking through our things while my back was turned," he clenches the picture tightly in his hand, finding that he can at least still express anger through his body instead of his words. "When the hell did you even find the time to do this- I'm  _ never _ far away from the base."

"Did I say when you were out? I meant to say while you were sleeping," the Blue doesn't even bat an eye at what he revealed. "But that's not important, of course. What's more important is that I don't think you've smiled in a single one of those pictures."

"How is that more importan-" he tries to start but is cut off.

"I mean, god I know they hated you, but why do you keep defending them if they make you so miserable," Temple's eyebrows knit together with faux worry. 

"They don't make me miserable!" he just didn't smile, and that was fine, not everybody was photogenic, it was ok. The Reds and Blues didn't make him un-

"Then why don't you smile in any of the photos, not even the recent ones," his questions feel like a barrage against Grif's psyche.

"I-" he stops himself this time. He doesn't know what kind of excuse he could make.

This seems to please Temple. His hesitation, his questioning.

"You should smile more," Temple says plainly. "I'd like to see you smile at me one day."

He was used to Temple giving himself the last word by walking away from the conversation.

Doesn't mean Grif still doesn't try.

"Not gonna happen," he swore through gritted teeth, letting the maniac walk away from the conversation as if he hadn't twisted his thoughts in all the wrong directions again.

Two could play this fucking game.

Temple wanted to watch him as he slept? Fine.

Grif would just have to make sure he didn't  _ sleep _ then. Sacrifices had to be made for the greater good.

And that greater good was not giving Temple the satisfaction of knowing he could just walk in  _ whenever _ he wanted.

So that night, instead of resting in his room as he  _ should _ have, he busted into Sarge's room, bypassed all the gizmo's and weapons of mass destruction that the older man liked to work on in his free time, and went straight towards his closet.

That Sarge used only for  _ weapons _ storage.

It's been a few months since Grif has held a gun, but as he picks out the sniper rifle from the rest of the lineup, he realizes that the instinctual reaction he has to hold a gun and arming himself will never go away, it's like he never put a gun down in the end.

That bothers him, for just a moment.

Climbing onto the top of the base, he keeps close to the edge, laying flat on his stomach as he peered through the scope to spy just exactly what that bastard was up to.

Temple wasn't doing anything at the moment, merely looking at the state that the crops were in, and according to him, they would be as good as ready soon. Which meant that they wouldn't have to ration as heavily now, and the fact that they had enough seeds for two different teams consisting of what Kimball thought was going to be approximately seven hungry mouths total meant that there would be  _ a lot _ of food to go around between the two of them.

But that wasn't what he was focusing on. He wanted to make the Blue feel like there were eyes watching him like Grif felt all the time now. Wanted to make the other man squirm at the uncomfortableness of it all, even if Grif didn't think that the Blue would.

And he stayed up there, only adjusting his position occasionally, for hours on end. Watching as the short days on Iris were made apparent by the disappearing sun, dipping into the water to not be seen till morning.

For a moment, in the hours of creeping exhaustion, he really did forget that he had left the Red and Blue war behind him.

He tried his best to stay up the whole night, but he can't go against his nature in the matter of a day, and before he even realized it- the only telltale signs being the fluttering of his eyelids as the world slowly became blurry- his head dipped down towards the roof and he was out like a light.

And when he woke up-

The first thing he noticed was that instead of the cold and solid material that the base was made of, his head was instead lying against a soft and plush pillow. 

Grif wasn't even sure  _ whose _ pillow it was, an unrecognizable scent lingering on the covering, implying that someone had been using it recently, as he very much doubted that if he went into Simmons room it would still smell like him- like  _ home. _

And that connection causes him to jolt up when otherwise he'd be sinking deeper into the pillow for just a  _ few _ more minutes of rest, and that action causes a blanket that had very much not been there before to slip down his shoulders. 

Looking around, he notices that the sniper rifle had been placed away from his sleeping form. Reaching for it, he checked to see if it was still loaded and felt  _ something _ when he noticed that all the rounds had been removed.

Setting it back down, he turned towards Blue Base, seeing with his own eyes if Temple was up and about. 

He found the Blue lounging against the base roof as well, reading a book that he must have found in  _ someone's _ room.

As if his eyes could burn, Temple must have felt that he was looking at him, because he turned towards Grif and just stared.

Grif didn't know what he was expecting to receive. A thank you? As if.

Temple had been the one to force him into taking such drastic measures, if he hadn't been a creep then Grif wouldn't have needed to watch him back.

In hindsight, perhaps that wasn't the best of arguments.

Maybe he should give the other man more credit, he'd been willing to put up with Grif's uselessness this long. He didn't even have to come up here and make him more comfortable, given that Grif was being pretty hypocritical by being a creep right back.

He should- he should thank the man.

Instead of making a further fool out of himself by yelling it across the two bases, he merely raised his hand in greeting- in acknowledgment.

He couldn't see Temple's reaction, but he did watch as the other man raised a hand of his own in response.

Perhaps extending an olive branch would be for the best. They were making the best out of a shitty situation.

And Grif has never been good at holding tightly onto anger anyhow. People could change. Maybe that's what Temple was doing.

Maybe.

* * *

Grif woke up to the smell of burning, and after experiencing two of his homes burning down and just  _ hearing _ about the other sends his brain into overdrive.

There's no hesitation in the way that he gets the fuck out of Red Base, but it's when he's outside and staring at the shitty building burning down that he has the time to calm down and think everything out.

How the fuck did the base burn down?

It takes a little too long, in his opinion, to come to the conclusion that there was only one other motherfucker on this goddamn moon, and he's sure that the Blue had no qualms with adding arsonist to his long list of citations.

"WAKE UP, ASSHOLE," he hollers at Blue Base, feeling as if he was absolutely pushed beyond his breaking point.

In a matter of seconds, Temple was speeding out of the base, eyes lit by the flames that were destroying his  _ fucking base. _

He did not look like someone who had just been asleep.

"What happened," he asks as if he didn't already know.

"I'm going to kill you," his fists clench and shake with unbridled fury.

"What for," Temple acts shocked and surprised as if he didn't understand  _ why _ Grif could possibly want his head on a fucking stake.

"Don't play dumb!" he accuses, pointing a finger towards the inferno that continued to rage on. "You did this!"

"How could I have possibly done this, be reasonable now," Temple makes to grab his arm, but Grif moves back before he could do so.

"Who else could it have been- you're the only other fucking person on this moon!" the crackling of the fire distracts his attention for a moment, but the feeling of Temple's hand clasping his arm brings his attention back to the other man.

"Honestly, Grif, I thought we were past this," Temple sighed, trying to edge him further away from the base.

"You did this- why would I set my own base on fire?!" he wrenches his arm out of his grip, and turns back towards his only home disappearing in front of his eyes- he couldn't help himself.

He couldn't focus- how could he, his home was on fire- and every time he tried to look away, his eyes would just stray back.

Everything he's ever owned was in that base- the few remaining civvies that he had, all those  _ photos, _ even his armor was left behind because he honestly hadn't stopped to think to grab them. And that wasn't even counting all of the items and belongings that were in Sarge's and Donut's and  _ Simmons' _ room.

They would hate him- they absolutely would hate him if they didn't already. How else would they think of him, he was a horrible person who just let all their stuff burn to a fucking crisp.

They were going to hate him, loathe him, want to stick him like a  _ fucking pig and let him bleed dry- _

At some point, his knees had collapsed on him, and he sat kneeling on the ground, just staring at the sea of flames, fingers lax and no longer tense with fury.

He hears Temple settle down behind him, and then there was a pressure leaning against his back, as Temple held him from behind, arms clasped and looped around his neck, head pressed nearby his own in what was meant to be a comforting position.

It was working.

"You must have left a candle lit," Temple reasoned, but Grif's pretty sure that he didn't, although his memory had been spotty as of late so maybe he did and just didn't realize because that's such a Grif move to pull- "The others warned me about how clumsy you could get. Would you like to hear the other things they said about you?"

He didn't wait for Grif to respond before continuing, saying, "They said you weren't worth their time, that you were a disaster just waiting to happen, and well I can see what they mean! After all, look what you managed to get up to while they're gone- you've burned down their home! I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't leave you behind for just this alone."

Temple deepened the hug, resting nearly all of his weight on Grif, remarking, "But I wouldn't leave you behind. You shouldn't be abandoned just because you make mistakes, they should have spent more time trying to correct you then admonishing and belittling you.  _ I'm _ willing to help you, Grif, because I care about you."

Grif's not sure when exactly he started crying, but he flinches at the unexpected contact of Temple's lithe fingers brushing away the stray tears.

"You can just move in with me," Temple reassured him. "And since we'll be spending more time together, I'll be able to help you, wouldn't you like that?"

He doesn't answer him. He watches the base burn down instead.

* * *

The flowers are in full bloom a week later.

Grif wishes he had a camera to take a picture of them and send them to Kimball. But the camera burned in the fire.

So did his armor, it was all a molten mess, an amalgamation of metal fused together. 

None of his clothes survived the fire either.

He's resorted to wearing some of the clothes that Caboose left behind, he was after all the closest in build to him, although that was more due to the muscle mass the blue soldier had accumulated over the years.

Grif should be thankful that rationing out the pre-made supplies Kimball had previously given them had caused him to lose a little weight. He wasn't quite sure what he would have done if nothing fit him.

But he gets it, of course, he's the fat one, why would anyone have anything near close to his weight after all, it's like he said he should be thankful that he managed to lose weight otherwise he might have been reduced to wearing the one same outfit over and over and wouldn't that get annoying after a while? Of course it would, to think otherwise is just silly, and he especially doesn't want to make Temple annoyed or disgusted with him- he's probably heard all about how he's a slob from the others, although they didn't know that he had cleaned the base, and continued to clean the base. Or, well, he had until the base burned down.

Temple tells him that he looks good in blue because of course everything that the Reds and Blues managed to wear was colored coded as well.

Grif didn't even like orange.

His favorite color was green because it was the color he associated the most with the lush plants that he used to get glimpses of whenever he was back home in Hawai'i. He didn't go out much, and the place where their house used to be was surrounded by a lot less green and a lot more grey.

Maybe that was why he liked the garden so much. A lot of green to look at.

And those rare flowers from Chorus were really a sight to behold. 

He's not sure how, but he's almost certain that they looked to be glowing, specifically in the veins of the plant if he looked close enough, and if he had to wager a guess, he'd say that it must have been a byproduct of all pure concentrated radiation that was condensed in the planet.

Concerning, only a little bit, but it was nice to look at. And it made him feel better because he had managed to keep them alive this long. 

They came in a variety of colors, but none in any of the shades or tints that tended to make him... upset if he thought about them too long. 

It was like his own little light show. They looked especially mesmerizing at night.

He really wished he had that camera.

"Wow, these look great," Temple praised him as he approached the garden brimming with life. "Seriously, good job. I knew you were competent at something."

Temple had told him that he was going to try positive reinforcement to help him. Because of how much the- the  _ others _ had beaten him down over the years, the Blue thought he would need a lot of it.

"Yeah," he softly said, finger gently touching one of the flower petals.

He didn't hate how it was working.

 

* * *

Temple handled everything, but he'd often direct Grif on how he could help him when it came to helping out on the farm, but he tended to stay near his flowers.

They ate all their meals together, slept in the same base, and as the months went by Temple managed to convince Grif to even share the same room as him. After all, look what happened when he was left to his own devices last time, and they didn't exactly have another base to live in if this one went down.

Temple was smart like that. A lot of what he said made sense now that Grif's had the time to understand his perspective on things.

Sometimes, when he looks up at his HUD clock, he's surprised that it's been almost a year.

Or maybe he's not so surprised after all.

* * *

When a ship breaks through the atmosphere, this time it's just Grif who hides away from the view of the delivery men.

If he doesn't see it, it didn't happen, if he doesn't see it, it didn't happen, if he  _ doesn't see it, it didn't happen- _

He hears the gunshots loud and clear, however. But that could have just been his imagination. Temple says that his proclivity for hallucinating things when isolated means that he can't trust everything he hears.

And he didn't see anything happen, so...

Temple comes to get him, carrying with him a uniform set, and a cherry, "I had a quick talk with the supply men, and after hearing out plight they were so kind to  _ supply _ us with their ship and a set of armor for you to wear since yours was destroyed. Isn't that great?"

The part of Grif's brain that hasn't become too warped around wonders on where Temple was going to let the bodies decay. He could have thrown them in the ocean, to let the sea life eat away at them or he could have dragged them to some part of the island where people wouldn't immediately look or-

But nothing happened so he doesn't wonder that at all.

"While you get that on, I'll begin packing the essentials we need," Temple turned around and headed towards the base, throwing a look back at him, asking, "Unless you need assistance doing that as well?"

Looking to the side, he shakes his head, saying, "No, I can manage this."

Temple gives him a brilliantly bright smile, "And I expect nothing less from you!"

As it turns out, the armor fits well on him, not a perfect fit of course, since the chances of that happening were slim to none, but it works for the moment. It's a boring color, of course, a standard grey, and it feels like it lacks life.

But he takes a long time slotting the pieces together, apprehension he guesses.

The quiet part of him wonders if this would be the day that the Reds and Blues come back for him. That would be so typical of them after all, arriving last minute to save the day.

But they're unreliable, and besides, why should he care about them when they certainly didn't care about  _ him. _

He walks away from all of it and lets Temple tell him what to do as they start filling the airship, with a meager amount of supplies and things that they were going to keep. Luckily, it was already filled with supplies, and by just opening one of them just a peak he sees that trade hasn't done well for Chorus, given that it was just more seeds and farm supplies. 

From what he can tell, there were flower seeds but none of the Chorisian flowers that Kimball had sent before.

He lets himself be disappointed for just a moment. 

It wouldn't do to get upset over something so insignificant.

"Looking for something like these," Temple holds up a container of the familiar seed packet.

His eyes light up at the sight of them, and he reached tentatively for them, fearing that Temple would snatch them away from him, but he doesn't so he holds the container with pleasant disbelief.

"Did Kimball send more?" he asked because he was sure that he had used them all up for his garden.

"Oh, no I actually found those in Blue Base, they must have slipped away all those months ago, but I found them now!" Temple's smile is not reflective of the perverse glee in his eyes.

Grif hugs the container to his chest a little. And to think there was a possibility that they could have left without them.

"No thank you," Temple asks disappointed.

"Thank you, Temple," he says immediately because he knows when he's being rude now. Temple taught him that.

"Surely that's deserving of a hug, right?" Temple opens his arms, an invitation that Grif's not too sure he can refuse.

He moves forward and leans into the embrace, Temple's arms wrapping around him but he doesn't return the gesture.

He excuses it on him holding onto the packets.

* * *

Unknown to either of them, a missing person's file just went up on the galactic web, a maroon soldier just fresh from returning to the right timeline nearly filled with anxiety and dread at the thought that it's been a  _ year and Grif was still missing. _

* * *

Temple didn't care about his plans for revenge anymore, he knew that they would not be possible anyhow. Before, he had relied on the fact that the other SIM Troopers had their own form of anonymity. While the Reds and Blues had been bold and flashy, the others had been left in the shadows.

But Temple found that from the shadows one could do the best work.

Now, however, he was left without a team, without a plan, and without any way to avenge Biff's death.

Maybe it wasn't necessary though. 

He's come to find in the past year that perhaps Biff had the right idea about wanting to get out of all the conflict to settle down.

And what better way than to take a little...  _ trophy _ one could say. 

Grif was easily malleable. The Reds and Blues had done most of the work for him, and after that mishap with the portal, well, it wasn't in the nature of humans to be alone for long periods of time. So of course, Grif would come seeking him, needing his affection because where else would he get it from? His memories? The very thought made him laugh.

It shocks him to find that he enjoyed the time he'd spent on the quaint little moon. It was relaxing in a way he didn't think it would be. Sure, he stewed in anger for the first few days, maybe even a few weeks, but when he realized the opportunity primed and ripe for him to take, he didn't hesitate for a moment.

But eventually, someone would come to check on the moon and find the pair of them there. Whether it was this Kimball lady or the UNSC or even the Reds and Blues. So he couldn't take that chance.

They'd relocate to somewhere no one would ever look for them, and Temple would get what he always wanted. A sense of control, and perhaps something else, time would tell.

But Grif was  _ his _ now- not the Reds and Blues. He knew that Grif was dependent on him mentally speaking, and where Temple went he was sure to follow.

After all! It only took a year.

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to make it a bit clear, this is a universe where the time travel adventure still happened but didn't end the way that season 17 did. So, the Reds and Blues were still gone for a whole year, but they never caused a paradox, and Chrovos was easily stopped by Donut since O'Malley didn't get an opportunity to steal the time gun away from his partner in time (Carolina) in this universe. They still don't know what happened to Grif or Temple and don't even know where to begin looking since a year has passed.
> 
> If you want to contact me, you can find me at either of my Tumblr's: @agent-murica (main) or @amateurscribes (writing).


End file.
